


Colors

by findmeinthevoid



Series: Nathmarc November [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Dorks, M/M, artist boi needs more color, deep chats, fluff and tension, just a smol lost boi who needs some help finding himself, marc anciel literally has rainbow in his literal name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 22:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findmeinthevoid/pseuds/findmeinthevoid
Summary: Nathaniel's life has always seemed colorless. But someone can help change that.Nathmarc November Day 22: Rainbow





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> uwu i live! wow after a cruel block of no inspiration or creativity, I'm back! With some sweet and self-indulgent marcnath fluff, at that!
> 
> also yeah i'm a fake canadian we don't use unnecessary "u"s in the void, for your friednly information

To anyone else, it probably seemed like Nathaniel’s life was filled with color. His style in appearance was less than subtle, his best friend was known for her lively personality, and it was fairly common knowledge that comic books were a big part of his life, and comic books were nothing short of colorful. If that wasn’t enough, if common knowledge wasn’t common enough,  _ everyone _ knew Nath was an artist, so one would obviously associate colors to that. From an external perspective, Nathaniel’s life should be vivid enough.

But those same people couldn’t really talk. After all, the only person who could be said to really know Nathaniel was Alix, and even they had only been friends for less than three years. His world might look colorful, but it felt colorless. Bland, repetitive, monochrome, flat-out  _ depressing _ . Comic books were almost his escape from the dry gloom that had become his everyday. The colors were bright, the drawings expressive, so much more excitement and  _ action _ than his own life offered. How much more exciting it must have been to be a superhero fighting menacing baddies every other day, than a plain average Joe who could only dream of such thrills to contrast the ordinary. And then when the comic books started to thin out, rereading them growing dry in itself, he figured he’d keep that same energy alive by drawing his own. Well, sort of. He could draw, certainly, he’d drawn his favorite characters in original situations more times than he could keep track of. He’d even made his own characters and situations based on the comics, but after a while, even those started to fade. He had the characters and the places, he just didn’t know how to bring them to life.

It didn’t help much when Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared in Paris, either. Comic books became a reality, that was exciting, no doubt, but his inspiration only really manifested itself in more characters and more additions to his concepts, expansions in his universe, but no  _ ideas. _ One time he challenged himself to exceed his own limits and try a comic, finally inspired to the point of a real storyline by the girl who’d gained his respect and admiration...he even dared to recognize it as  _ affection _ , but the comic felt almost cringy, albeit self-indulgent to a good degree. And then, of course, Chloe picked his sketchbook off the floor, opened her mouth, and now he was back at square one. Restricted by his own limits, hindered by his own lack of inspiration, and interest and excitement in life fading day by day.

Bright hues faded into pastels, muted further to blacks and whites and shades of grey, even those were bound to muddle up into meaningless puddles of gloomy colorlessness if his life didn’t spice up sometime soon. Sometimes he would have a burst of inspiration, of color, of  _ life, _ and he felt like he could do anything in the world. But that was happening less and less often as time went by, and he found himself resigning more to a locked bedroom door, tearing and crumpling page after page of failed attempts, turning the volume of his speakers up as high as they would go so he was enveloped in the emo cacophony that was the only thing that seemed to connect to him so well.

He was going in circles, almost downward, now it seemed, straight into an endless pit of hopelessness and failure. The world was turning grey and he was running out of color. Clouds gathering up top, collecting into a thicker and heavier mass of gloom, threatening to spill just to add to his walk towards obliteration.

Nathaniel didn’t even blink as a violent strike of lightning flashed right before the window, followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder that was clear even through the insulated walls. Marc jumped from his spot on the bed behind him, covering his mouth with a frightened “eep!” He took a few moments to regain his composure, then looked up at Nath who’d been watching him since he jumped.

“Th-that was really unexpected,” the writer commented awkwardly, re-adjusting himself not to look too shaken. 

Nathaniel barely seemed to have registered the strike, or maybe he did but was just immune to it? Marc peered at him curiously as he went back to working on the lineart for something while Marc fleshed out the script for the next issue. He didn’t feel like writing for a little bit, now, though, that lightning had sort of shocked him out of his wits and he’d need some time to properly gather himself and continue. Did Nathaniel even register anything anymore? It felt like he’d been wilting since they’d started working together. His art was improving with each issue, of course, but his attitude was growing duller and more monotonous than the cheerful, creative boy who’d introduced him to the art room. Marc almost feared to even consider- was it him? Was Nathaniel fading because of him? Was Marc limiting his creative liberty now that they were collaborating?

So many questions, yet so little confidence to speak up and ask. They ate away at him, clutching him with guilt, but how was he supposed to ask without coming off as suspicious, or worse, traitorous? Nathaniel had rejected him once before, there were no guarantees he wouldn’t do it again…

Nathaniel sensed the lack of movement behind him and paused, then turned his chair around. Marc was watching him, a thoughtful, yet faraway look in his eyes.

“Is...everything good?” he asked carefully. Marc continued to peer at him curiously, expression unchanged.

Nathaniel swallowed, suddenly all-too self-aware. He could feel Marc’s eyes watching him, boring into him, right through him, and his mind spun with a million ways this could go, most of them unpleasant. His thoughts, in spite of all Nathaniel was and believed in with conviction, inclined towards the worst. Nathaniel liked Marc. A lot. To the point he was scared of growing clingy and dependent, even. He really, really liked Marc, and he very deeply hoped that Marc wasn’t planning on leaving because Nath wasn’t sure what he’d do if Marc did.

“M-Marc...?” Nathaniel asked, coughing to cover the slip-up, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Can I ask you something?” Marc asked. Nathaniel just barely stiffened, involuntarily bracing himself.

“Sure...” he replied, not at all sure of himself.

“Why are you never happy?” Marc asked, pausing for a few moments before catching himself, because Nathaniel had never seemed so taken off-guard. “I mean- no! No, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry I phrased that wrong...” he looked up at Nath nervously, who seemed to be regaining his composure, and nodded.

“Yeah?” Nathaniel asked. Marc frowned, thinking.

“What I meant to say was, not that you’re never happy, just...you seem kind of...sad. Bored, almost...I don’t know how to describe it, just...when I first met you, you seemed so lively and energetic and vibrant, and...”

“Turns out I’m not?” Nathaniel finished, voice cracking slightly. He tried to hide the hurt but it must have shown on his face anyway.

“No!” Marc said again, facepalming both mentally and physically. “Not that you aren’t….just...tell me honestly, Nathaniel...do you really like working with me? I don’t want to make you feel restricted, just that...your drawings kind of made me see life in a brighter shade but now it seems like it doesn’t do that for you...”

Nathaniel all but cried out in relief, a small smile growing on his face.

“It’s not like that,” he assured Marc, “I think I understand how you meant it, but, uhh...well, first of all, it’s, uh, definitely not you, because, uh, well, umm...”

Marc was watching him curiously.

“Okay…? But then…?” the writer prompted gently. Nathaniel groaned into his hands, removing them from his face when he saw Marc watching him again.

“Sorry, just that...well. I’ll just be totally honest, I guess. My life seems like it’s all colors and superheroes and excitement, doesn’t it?” Nath started. “Well, I guess it kind of is, in some aspects, at least. But for a long time, I guess, the world just started to slowly turn kind of grey for me. Things just weren’t exciting anymore. Same old, same old, what’s the point of it all after a while, you know? And, uhh...”

“Mm?”

Nathaniel paused, swallowing and taking a deep breath.

“I, well, you know, you, that happened, and we, just, I, uh, I-I don’t how to explain it but you came and, you know? We, like, yeah, just...yeah” he said all in a rush, gesturing wildly.

Marc blinked in surprise. Well, one, Nath just went off on a mumble rant, which he never did with Marc, and two, uhh, what the heck did he just say?

Nathaniel groaned and hid his face in his hands. Marc slowly got up and walked over to him, turning his chair around so he was facing his front again. Nathaniel took even longer to pry his hands off his face, looking up to meet his gaze.

“So, what you were saying, is your life lacks color, huh?” Marc said softly, leaning closer in spite of himself.

“Er, yeah, sort of, basically, yeah,” Nathaniel said, eyes widening at the closeness of the proximity between the two. “Y-you were actually sort of helping me get out of that, whole, y’know...” he trailed off, voice fading.

“Was I?” Marc asked thoughtfully, coming in even closer, a strange surge of adrenaline setting in.

“Y-yes?” Nathaniel whispered, voice breaking. Marc was so close he could count every eyelash if he wasn’t so distracted by those piercing emerald eyes.

“Well then maybe I’m not doing well enough,” Marc said, voice only audible because they were this close.

Nathaniel had already leaned back and shrunk in on himself as much as he could, because his body wouldn’t give anymore, and gave in, in spite of all he was, as Marc closed the final gap between them at last.

His eyes initially flew open in shock and surprise, then slid closed as he relaxed, sighing softly. His nerves crashed, shut down completely for a good five seconds, then, just s quickly, whirred back to life and went properly crazy. Nathaniel’s arms moved of their own accord, snaking around Marc’s neck to pull him in even closer, Marc responding by threading his fingers through those scarlet red locks. They sat and stood like that until the need for oxygen overtook the thrill of the moment, pulling apart reluctantly only to stare at each other. Seafoam into jade green, just drinking each other in through sight alone, for what felt like eternity but lasted only about three minutes.

Nathaniel’s vision was dancing, and he forced himself to break away just to clear the dizzying sensation fogging his mind. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops on the window stopped, and they both turned to look outside. The clouds were separating, thinner and softer grey, to reveal a stunning display of bright colors in a perfect band outside the window. They both stared at it for a few moments, Nathaniel suddenly having to restrain himself from laughing. Marc looked outside, then at Nath, with a soft smile that soon widened into a grin.

“So,” he started, a break from the silence. “Find your color?”

Nathaniel couldn’t hold back anymore; he burst out laughing and took Marc down with him too, just rolling on the floor and laughing for no apparent reason, until Nathaniel’s mom came in and asked them why it sounded like they were being cruelly tortured in Nath’s own bedroom. They shared one last sneaky smile through the window as Marc left for his own house that night, Mrs. Kurtzberg oblivious as ever to her son’s secret activities behind closed (but not locked) doors.

Finally, Nathaniel supposed, yes, he had found his colors. An entire rainbow of them, to hang up over all his days from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> ayo come bother me on tumblr i'm actually lonely or discord hit me up


End file.
